


High Chances (That I Might Lose)

by wings_simulacrum



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Character Undeath, Gen, Watch me - Freeform, technically peter is dead but, we can fudge that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 04:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17297615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings_simulacrum/pseuds/wings_simulacrum
Summary: Peter had never realized how desperately he wanted someone like him to share his experience with until the moment he saw Miles. It was the worst thing in the world, he thought, that he died without the chance to realize that future.Until he gets the chance.





	High Chances (That I Might Lose)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I've been sitting on this idea for a few days and got the bug to write it out, so here we are. I started at around 10pm and it's a little after 3:34 am now. Hopefully it turned out ok. Enjoy!

Peter was shocked to open his eyes, but there he was. Sitting on a very comfortable leather couch in a generic living room like a million others he’d seen in New York. Across the room, a TV played news. He couldn’t take his eyes off the footage – it was about him. Dead. Peter Parker, the host explained, a 26-year-old grad student and part time photographer who had saved thousands of lives over the ten years he operated as Spider-Man. And then there was Peter’s own face on screen. His blond hair. His blue eyes. It was a good-looking photo, but… dead?

No, no, nonononono. He had been at the supercollider. There was a kid. Like he had been once, so young and scared and clueless but _like him_. Peter flashed back to the rush of emotions he’d felt in that moment. Hope, joy, a thrill he couldn’t name that filled his chest like a helium balloon until he thought he’d float into the clouds. Being Spider-Man was great, he loved it, but it was a bit lonely. But now? This? A million visions flashed through his mind at once and he wanted _all_ of them.

Him and the kid in civilian clothes, getting ice cream and talking about life. Homework, girls, what villains were most likely to cause trouble next.

Him and the kid, two Spider-Men in unique suits, swinging from one sky-scraper to the next in the perpetual dusk of a New York night.

Him and the kid tag-teaming baddies like Doc Ock and Sandman and Scorpion, playing jokes off of each other as easily as they borrowed each other’s webs and momentum in a fight.

Him and the kid in his shed, going over strategies, creating new technology, laughing together like brothers. Him beating the kid at Monopoly.

Him, proud in the back of an auditorium as the kid graduates high school someday.

Him, not alone. The kid, his partner, his legacy.

That was the feeling that sent his heart beating crazily as their spidey-senses registered each other.

Peter remembered what happened next. Crushed among the rubble where he could feel far too many broken ribs to walk away from this one, ever. He had to tell the kiddo to get out, to save the city – he could do it. Peter was sure. When the new Spider-Man had disappeared into the debris, then and only then did Peter let himself feel the heartbreak. The promise of a new type of future, given and taken away just as suddenly. A dream he’d never realized he had, revealed only to be destroyed in time to make his death that much more painful.

Peter had always known this life would catch up with him, but this? This was just cruel. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that in the moments before he died, he’d been afraid. There was no begging, but it’s scary to die. Even for Spider-Man. In those last moments he had time to mourn his own death. He thought about this kid, and then MJ, and then May. Oh, God, poor Aunt May. Kingpin’s fists had come down so hard.

And then he was here.

“Hello?” His voice echoed as though the room were much larger, and then the scenery changed before his eyes. The couch beneath him turned into a folding chair. Another chair and a folding table appeared before him as the walls fell away and he was there – at the bottom of the massive supercollider chamber. The TV ended up on a small stand next to the table. “Is… anyone here?” Peter wasn’t sure he’d have a spidey-sense in… wherever this was.

“You are.” It was a woman’s voice, soothing and layered. Listening felt like falling through a thousand feet of tunnel into the blackness. She appeared in the chair across from him – a skeleton in a robe. “As am I.” Peter squinted at her.

“Where does your voice come from?”

“That is neither here _nor_ there,” the humor in her voice is evident, but still. Talking skeletons? Eh, weirder things have happened.

“Ah, I get the joke. Nice,” Peter gave her finger-guns. “Where is here? Aren’t I dead?”

“Very dead. You’re in my realm, now, Peter Parker.” Her head tilted. “Well, you’re in the lobby.”

“So you’re telling me that after my number is up, I _still_ have to wait in line? What is this, the DMV?” Peter got the strongest sense that Death was rolling her eyes, even though her eye sockets were empty. In fact, the longer he stared into them, the more he felt himself being pulled in… he shook his head to clear himself of the sensation.

“I’m not sure I want you yet, Parker.”

“Well, you sure know how to make a guy feel appreciated.”

“When you passed into my realm, you brought your final thoughts and feelings with you and I- they were very strong. I couldn’t help but to know them.”

“Don’t… most dying people come over with strong feelings? The number of people who are fairly neutral about impending death seems low, if you ask me, and I’ve seen a lot of people face impending death.”

“Yes, and kept them from me. Are you trying to talk me out of this?” She sighed, resting her elbows on the table between them. Peter matched her posture.

“Talk you out of _what,_ exactly?”

Death flicked her fingers at the TV. It changed from coverage of Peter’s own death to that kid – but Peter knew in his heart now that his name is Miles. He was curled up in a dark bedroom, staring at the override key in his hand. Peter’s heart seized in his chest. The screen flicked to Aunt May next, sobbing in her kitchen, holding a photo of Peter as a child, smiling next to a younger version of her and Uncle Ben. MJ came on screen in their apartment, going through Peter’s clothes and Spider-Man paraphernalia, holding back tears as she gently placed them all in boxes and closed them up.

“Your world can move on without you, Peter Parker. But it doesn’t have to.”

“I- what? You can send me back?”

“I can,” it wasn’t a promise. It was, at best, a casual consideration. “If you want it, it can be done.”

“I… I do.” Peter swallowed hard. The screen was showing Miles again, standing in front of Peter’s own grave, a shadow rising behind him. Then it went dark. He looked back to Death. “There’s no such thing as a free lunch in the afterlife, is there?”

“How astute.”

“So… what are you asking for?”

Death rose from her chair and came around the table, strolling casually until she was standing in front of Peter. He craned his neck to look at her face, but couldn’t bring himself to look at her eye sockets again. He focused on a spot just between them.

“A game, Peter Parker, of my choice. You will play my game and if you’re _very good,_ ” she extended one finger and lightly tapped him on the nose, “then perhaps I will send you home to be with your family again.” He swallowed loudly.

“And if I lose? I’m already dead, how much worse could it get?”

“If you lose,” she chuckled, returning to her seat, “then _you_ get to work the lobby for the next hundred years. You’ll get to see all your loved ones come through, I’m sure they’ll be very heartwarming reunions.”

“Oh, yeah, that is definitely worse. I can’t believe I asked that question, it’s really a ‘famous last words’ kind of scenario, isn’t it?” Death didn’t respond, just stared at him impassively, leaning on the table with one arm. He could only assume the stare was impassive, of course – no facial features to go by. Man, that was trippy. “What’s the game?”

Death rubbed her skeletal hands together and somehow managed to grin. “Monopoly.”

“Oh, God, anything but Monopoly,” Peter threw himself across the table with melodramatic flair, pulling one hand down his face. “Please, spare me- Just kidding.” He sat upright. “I’m bomb at Monopoly. No one will play me anymore.”

“Maybe you can convince Miles to play you… if you get back.” Death waved a hand across the table and a board appeared, fully prepared for a two-player game.

“That’s a neat trick. And hey, it’s the top hat! That’s my lucky piece!” Peter reached for it but she slapped his hand away like a reproachful grandmother at the dinner table.

“The top hat is mine. You get the car.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“But it’s my lucky piece,” he pouted.

“Luck didn’t get you here, Peter, so I see no reason why you should have it now.”

“Woah, you never told me you’re a philosophy major. Is this the only job you could get with that degree?” Death laughed at this one, but her laugh turned grating and almost frightening. It echoed frighteningly in the massive ceiling of the collider room, and despite his humor Peter couldn't help but remember that he was, in fact, sitting with Lady Death. Instead of responding, she simply summoned a pair of dice from the air and rolled them. Game on.

So here’s the thing about Monopoly.

It never goes quickly.

They had been leaning over the board for what must have been several hours, each vying for dominance of the board, but neither one getting far. Neither one owned very many properties – each time around they seemed to simply land on one of their own again. Peter was starting to get tired (you can be tired when you’re dead?) but didn’t dare say so. He stifled a yawn and glanced at the TV, hoping to see something interesting, but it just cut between the same three people sleeping. Or, at least, trying to sleep.

“Let’s take a break,” Death offered and Peter nodded in agreement. “I’ve got this all on DVR, you know. Should we rewind?” He looked back at her. “Who do you want to watch?” Peter thought about it. He didn't want to watch MJ or May grieving, that would be too hard. His own heart might break if he did, and now isn’t the time for that. No, he’s curious.

“Can I… can we watch Miles?” He can sense Death’s pleasure.

“Good choice.” She snapped her fingers and the screen turned back in the wreckage where Peter had died. He sees Kingpin notice Miles and send Prowler after him. It’s equally nerve-wracking and thrilling to watch the chase. Miles clearly has no idea how to use his powers, but the potential is all there and a natural ingenuity that Peter has to admire. He doesn’t exhale until it’s clear that Miles lost the Prowler.

“How long ago was this?”

“Time doesn’t really matter here. It’s all already happened, except for the parts that haven’t happened yet.”

“Real helpful, I see. Putting that degree to good use.” Peter’s eyes don’t stray from the screen as Miles crawls into his bedroom, discovered by his parents. “That guy hates me? Can’t please ‘em all, but that sucks for the kid. Seems like a nice family, though.” The screen skipped to Miles, trying on a severely undersized Spider-Man costume in a single-stall public restroom. He tried out a few poses, none feeling quite right, and Peter can’t help but chuckle. Miles goes to Peter’s funeral and then he takes a lot – and I mean a lot – of stairs to the top of a building.

“He’s really trying to take after you,” Death acknowledges.

“Oh, kid,” Peter can see where this is going already. The comic shows Peter’s own success, but doesn’t show all of the failures leading up to that. “Not that building, that’s- that’s way too tall. Go for the shorter one.” Miles does, but trips on a shoelace and plummets to the ground below. Pulls a broken override key out of his pocket. “Oh, man, that’s not good.”

“Why don’t we get back to the game, Peter. I’m sure you’re _dying_ to know what happens next.”

“Hey, the puns are my thing. You pick something else.” He wasn't happy about it, but Peter turned back to the game, picking up the dice and rolling. He lands on one of Death’s properties.

“In my realm, once again.”

“Can you stop calling it ‘in your realm’ when I land on one of your properties? That’s just creepy.”

“My realm, my rules, Peter.” She rolled and landed on an unclaimed property. Bought it. Peter’s turn.

“You’re fun, you know that? Anyone ever tell you that you’re fun to hang out with?”

“As you can imagine, that’s not what people typically think when they meet me. There have been… a few.”

“Oooh, sounds like a crush.” No response. “Yup, it’s a crush. What’s their name? Did they check ‘yes’?”

“You are completely irreverent of death,” Death gripes.

“Yeah, okay, but did they check ‘yes’?” There’s a long silence as the two hand the dice back and forth, filling out the board. Peter isn’t losing, but he’s not winning either. He’s hanging on to neutral status by a thread.

“ _I_ checked ‘no’. Stop asking questions.” Peter smiles and turns his eyes back to the board. Time to strategize.

Time isn’t very real when you’re dead, but he feels it passing anyways. Sometimes it seems like only a few seconds, though occasionally he gets the sensation that eons have passed, the world has already succumbed to the heat death of the universe, and he’s still waiting to use his Get Out of Jail Free card.

“Death, can I ask you something?”

“Can I stop you?”

“I won’t… if you send me back, you won’t send me back too late to save Miles, will you?” Her eyes are inscrutable, of course.

“Plenty of assumptions in that question, Peter. It begs the question – does Miles need to be saved?” A lump catches in his throat as he considers that. _Miles might be okay without him_ , but that doesn’t mean that Peter is giving up yet. He remembers his new dream and he still wants it. Death rolls the dice again, keeps playing. “Tell me, Peter. What makes you think that it’s a good idea for me to put you back in the world, now that they have Miles?”

“I don’t want him to be alone.” Peter’s answer is immediate. He thinks back to his own youth and discovering his powers by himself. The countless nights working into the early morning to perfect his suit, his web shooters, his technique. He thinks about every single time he got hit so hard he wasn’t sure if he _could_ get back up, when there was nobody there to give him a hand or care for his wounds but himself. Given the chance, Peter would do it all over again, of course… but given the chance to provide a _better_ experience for someone younger than him? Any reasonable adult wants future generations to struggle less than they did. It was a no-brainer. “I’m absolutely sure that Miles can do it on his own, but he doesn’t have to. The chance to make him better than I could ever be? Man, that’s something else.” Peter took the dice from Death and rolled, wincing as he landed on one of her Boardwalk properties.

“Really? It all comes from your selfless drive to help out Gen Z?”

“Well…” Peter hedges, “I don’t want to be alone, either.”

“That’s more like it.”

“I just- I think it would be better than anything to have someone out there with me, someone who gets it. MJ is understanding and May, heh, May is an amazing support, but… I’m fundamentally different than they are. It would be so nice to have someone like me.” Death gestures at the tv.

“Look at him, now. He’s not completely alone.” She was right. There was another Spider-Man with Miles now, though he looked… different from Peter, even if they still resemble each other in a lot of ways.

“Is that me in the future?” Peter looked down at his abs and back at the man on the screen.

“No. That’s Peter B. Parker. He’s from another universe.”

“Wow.”

“Makes you feel pretty lucky, huh?”

“That dude looks rough. If I stay dead, can you promise I never look that tired?” Death wagged a finger at Peter warningly. They watch as both Spider-Men attempt to steal the information from Alchemax to make another goober. He chuckles, hearing Peter B. call it that – some things just might be true in every universe. Then there’s _another_ Spider-Person, but her name is Gwen and she’s cooler than anyone else Peter has seen so far. She can’t be much older than Miles, but Peter’s seen enough damaged people to know that she doesn’t let anyone see her sweat. Then there’s _more_ Spider-People and one of them is a pig.

“Pretty funky, huh?” Death doesn’t have eyebrows but they’re raised anyways. It’s mildly infuriating, but not more infuriating than the fact that she’s got a solid lead on Peter in Monopoly and he’s going to have a tough time coming back from it.

“Can’t deny I’m happy to see them… all…” Peter looks at the pig again, and the black-and-white one, and the young girl who looks like she came straight out of an anime. “He’s in good company. Lucky guy.” It’s Peter’s turn again and when he rolls the dice, he lands on the exact same Boardwalk property as last time – but now she’s got a Monopoly over there and it nearly cleans him out. “Damn,” he whistles. “These dice are _not_ fairly weighted.”

“Name one point in your life where things were weighted in your favor, Peter,” Death says. “It’s no different over here.”

“Okay, well actually, I have to say that the Spider-Man thing turned out really well for me. Saving people is fulfilling – and I got to share my life with MJ, too. It wasn’t all that unfortunate. Except for those last few moments. Thoooose were unfortunate.” Death looks at him closely and then rolls the dice. This time, she lands on one of his monopolized properties. On his next role, Peter misses all of her properties by a hair and lands on one of his own. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Well, it looks like you have some luck over here, after all.” Peter squinted at Death. Was his success in this game directly linked to his belief in good fortune? It was worth trying. He looked at the board. _Okay. These dice work for_ me _now._

Those dice did not work for him.

“Fuck it.” He looked over at the TV – Miles wasn’t faring much better. Peter could see that the other Spider-People had ganged up on him pretty badly, and he got it, they wanted to make sure the kid was up to the mission. But Miles looked so despondent, he wanted to reach through the screen and shake each one of them by the shoulders. _Can’t you see he’s still a child?_ Maybe that was _all_ they saw, though. When he looked up, Death was watching him closely.

“Things don’t always go the way we want them to, do they?”

“I have to say, Death, this isn’t nearly as much fun as I thought it would be.”

“Oh, really?” She rolls the dice. “What part of being dead sounds like a carnival ride to you? Have you spent much time fantasizing about playing against Death for your life back?”

“Okay, when you put it that way.”

“That's what I thought.” It’s her turn again and she’s on fire. Peter’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a chance of winning now.

It was pretty cool, for a minute, to have hope that he might be able to go back and see May and MJ and Miles again, but now Peter was beginning to realize that he never had a chance of winning. It sucked. Twice in one day – or in however long since he’d gotten here – to have that fantasy set in front of him, untouchable after all. _Never let ‘em see you sweat,_ Peter thought to himself. Maybe he was super doomed, but the least he could do is keep playing his absolute best until it was over. Just like in life. No matter how many times he got knocked down, he got up, kept fighting, until the day he finally lost. Being dead didn’t have to be any different, as Death had so eloquently pointed out.

On screen, Miles was painting one of Peter’s old suits, determination on his face. The next thing Peter knew, the kid was leaping off the side of a building and swinging through New York like he owned the place. _Good job, Miles. You’re gonna be okay without me._ On his next roll, Peter had to sell half of the properties he still owned to pay Death.

“You can quit now, you know,” she offered. “You can see that Miles will do just fine on his own. If you forfeit now, I’ll only make you work the lobby for 50 years.” Peter only took a second to think it over.

“Mm, hard pass. Your turn.” He handed the dice over, then turned back to the screen. Miles really was something else, and a quick learner. Peter smiled to himself, watching as Miles rode the supercollider’s moving pieces up to the top of the chamber in a manner so much like his own move, but with a distinctly new style and grace. Maybe he’d never get to mentor Miles, but it was a joy to watch him go. “Would you look at that? He’s a marvel.”

“It’s only been three days since you died and he’s already a force to be reckoned with.”

“ _Three days?_ ” Peter reeled internally. The world had been mourning him for three days and here he’d just been playing Monopoly for what felt like both eternity and two hours. It kind of felt like shit, but the rest of time would stretch out in front of him in much the same manner. He heaved a sigh and rolled the dice for his last turn. It was impossible for him to do anything but lose, he knew before the dice hit the table, but he rolled anyways. Isn’t that what he does?

“Hard luck.” Death’s words were no consolation.

“Yeah, well, I don’t always get lucky.” Peter turned away from the table to watch Miles again. “I was pretty lucky to meet him, though.” Miles let go of Peter B.’s suit, letting the other Spider-Man fall through the portal and back into his own universe. All that was left, now, was to shut down the supercollider. “Can I at least finish watching this? I want- I need to know.”

“No harm in that, I suppose.” Death sat with him. The monopoly board and the table disappeared into mist. Peter leaned forward, fists clenched and eyebrows tight as he watched Fisk land hit after hit on Miles who laid on the ground.

“Come on, Miles,” he murmured. “Get up. You’ve got this.” It looked like it wasn’t going to happen, and Peter feared that they’d be reuniting sooner than he wanted but then, finally, Miles pushed himself to his feet. The little Spider-Man placed one hand on Fisk’s shoulder and let a massive bolt of electricity run through his arm and into Kingpin, stunning him. Miles wrapped the whole thing up nicely, even using Fisk to deactivate and destroy the supercollider. “I couldn’t have done it better, myself.”

“You couldn’t do it by yourself at all, Peter.” He wasn’t sure when it happened, but they were both standing now, facing each other. The TV was gone.

“Well, I guess I’d better get started,” he sighed lightly. “Miles _is_ going to be okay, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Death said. “He’s going to be just fine. Give him my regards.” She placed one hand on Peter’s shoulder and gripped hard.

“I- wait. Say that again?”

“I never said you have to _win,_ Peter. I just wanted to see what you’re made of. Maybe Death can beat Peter Parker at Monopoly, but not even death can beat Spider-Man.” Death shoved Peter forwards hard enough to knock him off balance. The supercollider room around them faded into grey and he fell into nothingness, arms waving, unable to suppress his surprised shout.

_

Peter jerked forward, a natural continuation of his fall, but he didn’t move far before he hit his head against something right in front of him, solid wood. When he opened his eyes, it was completely dark. And crowded. Peter didn’t need to be a genius to realize that he woke up inside his own casket.

“Wait, what?” He yelled at nothing, hoping Death would hear him. “How is this fair? I’m trapped in here!” There were six feet of dirt on top of the casket lid, and Peter was afraid that even with his enhanced strength, he may not be able to pull himself out of his own grave. There was no way he could do this alone.

“Oooohhhhkayyy,” the breath he let out didn’t settle him as much as he’d like, but a guy could pretend. “Okay, okay, this is cool, totally normal place to wake up after being dead and playing Monopoly with Lady Death and losing and then coming back to life _anyways_. This day has already been so weird. May as well let it happen, right? Right. Okay, so it happened. Now, how the hell do I get out of here?” It wasn’t that Peter was claustrophobic, but he was pretty sure that no one would be thrilled if they were shut in a little box like he was. _Nothing to it but to do it, bud._

It took some shifting, but Peter managed to turn on his side a little, pulling one arm up until he could angle it at the casket lid. “Oh, this is such a bad idea. I haven’t even been back for three minutes and I’m about to choke myself to death on dirt.” He levered his elbow into the lid as hard as possible, despite having almost no room to move. It didn’t do much, but a few more hits and he felt the lid start to crack. He heard something else, too – a slight scrabbling from above him. Jesus, had the rats found him already? This was so gross. The scrabbling didn’t sound like rats, though, it sounded like hands. Peter’s spidey-sense woke up for the first time since his death and he felt another one nearby.

“Miles?!” He hoped that his shout would carry through the thick wood and whatever dirt was still between them.

“Peter?” The answering call was faint, but there. Peter threw his head back and laughed, no one’s voice had ever sounded better than Miles’s had in that moment.

“Oh my God, kid, you can’t _imagine_ how happy I am to hear your voice. Can you help me out? It’s, uh… a little stuffy in here.” Moments later he could hear Miles’s hands brushing the top of his casket.

“Okay, cover your face. I’m about to break the lid.” Peter could only get one hand over his face, but he turned away from the lid as best he could. He felt the fresh air rushing in as Miles punched through and took a grateful breath of air. “How are you _alive?_ You’ve been dead for like a week!”

“Please just get me out of this thing first. Please. I’ve never hated small spaces but, honestly, can’t say I’m the hugest fan of this one, Miles.”

“Wait. How do you know my name?”

“Pleasepleaseplease just keep helping me out of here.”

“Right, sorry.” It took a little more work between the two of them, but in no time at all, Peter Parker was crawling out of his own grave. He threw himself onto the grassy earth, spreading his limbs out as much as possible and taking in the sky above him.

“Wow, this feels great.”

“Okay, are _you_ a zombie? Because there was another guy kinda like you but he was from another dimension, but you’re kinda… undead.” Peter considered that for a moment.

“Huh, I guess I am technically undead.” Miles just stood and stared down at him, mouth slightly agape, clearly unable to speak. “Okay, I know for a fact that in the last week you met multiple versions of Spider-Man from other dimensions – including a _pig_ – so I don’t see why it’s so weird that you just helped pull me out of my grave. How did you know to do that, anyways?”

“It’s a Friday so I was walking home from school,” he gestured at a suitcase and overstuffed backpack behind him. “I got this weird feeling that I really needed to come see you, so… I did. And then I thought I could sense you moving around so I started digging.”

“Kid, I am _so_ glad to see you. You cannot even imagine.”

“Actually… I kinda think I can. I watched you die, man.”

“Right. I'm sorry you had to see that.”

“How are you even _here_?”

“I died, so that was awful.” Peter sat up and patted the grass next to him. Miles accepted his invitation. “Wilson Fisk killed me with his own fists and then instead of dying all the way, Lady Death herself played a board game with me and then sent me home after I lost, and now I’m alive again.” Miles squinted at Peter. “Hey, don’t look at me like I’m crazy. Let’s get the hell out of here before random passers-by see you sitting on the grass with the raised corpse of Peter Parker.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” They stood, but Miles was clearly still chewing on a question. “Hey, how are you going to keep being Spider-Man, now that everyone knows your secret identity?”

Peter put a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s a good question, Miles. You and I are gonna have to figure that one out.”


End file.
